Murky Reflections
by unfortunate-ending
Summary: Rylan Wintermarsh, about to undergo his Harrowing but the future is still uncertain...


**Title:** Murky Reflections

**Chapter 1: **The Summoning

**Summary: **Rylan Wintermarsh, about to undergo his Harrowing but the future is still uncertain...

**Rating: **T just incase...

**A/N: **This is mostly canonical however there will be some AU parts and extended/shortened scenes but also adjusted times. Instead of an Amell the mage in this will be a Wintermarsh.

Rylan had been called; his Harrowing was at hand.

Once he had been handed his summons by Darryl, his instructor in arcane lore, he had returned to his room to focus. By focus he meant pore hopelessly over the tomes detailing his currently limited repertoire of magical skills trying to perfect them for the unknown challenge that lay ahead. Over and over he read how to summon and channel arcane energy for an arcane bolt, unleash a 'shout' of mental energy to knock back or even stun an enemy and finally how to project thoughts onto others. The final skill he was practising had so far been frowned on by some of his associates for being too similar to blood magic however if they were to take the time to study the differences as had the senior mages who had witnessed his progress, they would see that it was in fact an act using magic from the spirit school to project the caster's will across the fade, and into the mind of the intended recipient. It was his understanding of this field and his subtle use of his talent which had attracted the attention of the First Enchanter and somehow he thought that this may be the reason for such a quick call for his Harrowing.

Two templars abruptly entered the communal sleeping chambers of the apprentices, causing all the students present to turn and to stare at the intrusion before looking around the dormitory for the unfortunate whose time had come. Once they had reached the foot of Rylan's bed, an unwanted look of sympathy spread across the faces of his room-mates: the range of Rylan's skills was narrow in comparison to that of most called for testing, and his success was far from assured in their eyes.

"Rylan Wintermarsh, it is time." one of the templars stated plainly. He and his companion then waited wordlessly for Rylan's compliance, faces hidden by their helms and unable to betray any interest in the apprentice's fate. They both stood as chantry-mage etiquette commanded, with one a hand resting on their sword: a reminder to any mage who might consider themselves an equal that the templars are the ones holding the power.

Rylan stood, attempting to control the slight tremble of nerves in his pale hands. He arranged his face in what he hoped was a commanding expression that his father would have been proud of before pressing himself from his bedframe and responding.

"Indeed, and I assume you shall both be my escorts? I'm honoured, surely." he stated jokingly to attempt to break the tension.

The templar who had remained silent until then chuckled gently, and met Rylan's amber eyes with his own green ones. Immediately Rylan was sure this was Cullen, still so unaware of formalities in comparison to his brother templars.

His more proper fellow gestured towards the door and once Rylan had followed the unspoken direction – the apprentice's robes flowing gently around him giving him an impression of serenity far from what he actually felt - both guards fell in beside him and guided him higher into the tower.

Eventually they reached a heavily fortified room. It was curious that the Harrowing would be held in such a room, Rylan thought upon seeing it, but after further consideration he reallised that if someone with far more destructive power than he were to be tested, the building may indeed need such reinforcement to be able to withstand their onslaught.

Cullen and the other templar held back at the door to the room. Forcing back the whimper of nerves he could feel rising within him, Rylan turned and pushed back one of the strands of coppery-brown hair that had slipped from behind his ear and looked back over his shoulder. His eyes met once more with Cullen's, and had to battle down a further surge of nerves after seeing a clear look of concern displayed within them.

Turning back to the door he gently but firmly pushed against the wood, then strode in trying to project a confidence he felt himself lacking, hiding his hands within his robes for fear they might betray him. The templar escorts followed behind and joined swiftly with the formation of more of their order which was waiting within the room. Taking in the sight around him, Rylan saw that there were many templars including Knight-Commander Gregoir but only one mage: First Enchanter Irving himself.

"I'm ready..." Rylan felt himself saying without pausing for thought, hoping nobody would notice any slight quiver in his voice.

"I am certain that you are Rylan. You have grown so much since you were first brought to our doors," said Irving, though his eyes remained fixed on the templars, and his usually soft gaze took on an accusatory glint, "but you must remember no matter how far we travel there is yet more to learn. Remember that the Fade is a realm of spirits, and those spirits can manipulate it to their whim with ease; your talents, though useful on this plane, may not have as much effect as you are accustomed to in that realm."

"Irving, he must do this alone." Gregoir interrupted before the old mage could give anything further away. "Apprentice, you _are _ready."

Leading Rylan forward to a dark stone font in the centre of the room the First Enchanter fell back into what Rylan imagined was be the usual script for the situation. "This is, as you are well aware, lyrium allowing us as mages to enter the Fade on command. When you are ready for your test, please begin."

Rylan watched as Irving turned and walked back towards Gregoir, who was observing the room hawk-like for any suspicious activity even before the apprentice had begun his trial and entered the Fade. Turning back towards the bowl of the font, he allowed his hand to hover momentarily over the gently glowing liquid as he considered what he may face. A moment's consideration before his eyes widened in determination and he plunged his palm into the sapphire fluid and succumbed to the sensation of being transported both inside and outside of himself at once...


End file.
